


Fight Me

by Cohmcarden



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom, hogwarts - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Flirting, Fluff, Hogwarts, Romance, Slow Burn, Smut, banter with the weasley lads, jokessss, witty bants
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:49:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26275921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cohmcarden/pseuds/Cohmcarden
Summary: George Weasley x (Slytherin)reader
Relationships: George Weasley - Relationship, George x reader, Weasley x reader, X Reader - Relationship, george weasley x reader
Comments: 21
Kudos: 162





	1. Chapter 1

You were sat alone in the library, the warm but dim lighting illuminating the pages of the book that you were trying your hardest to read without falling asleep, which was proving increasingly difficult as you sat there, bored out of your mind. There was a big test in Defence Against the Dark Arts tomorrow, and professor Lupin made it very clear that it was important that you got a good grade, so you decided to do what you always did; leave it until the night before and then spend all night cramming, falling asleep in the actual exam and end up failing.

You leant back in your chair, looking up at the floor-to-ceiling bookshelf that ran along the wall, wondering how many words there were in all of them combined, and why they all seemed to be crammed into the book you were reading. Glancing over at the clock you noticed that it was 9:57—three minutes infill you had to be in your dorm room. Secretly thanking the universe for the break it just gave you, you gently closed the book you were reading, slipping it under your top and heading out of the library; professor Snape had banned you from borrowing books from the library after you were caught with a 5ft high pile of unreturned books sitting on your nightstand in second year—to be fair, it wasn't your fault, you were just forgetful. You still borrowed books though, just secretly.

The halls were empty as most students are in their dorms, leaving the building peacefully quiet as you strolled along, taking in the fading warmth of dusk and the breeze of summer air on your face as you walked past the open archways that looked out into the courtyard. Checking that Snape wasn't somewhere near you — lurking in the shadows as usual — you slid the book out from underneath your shirt, tucking it underneath your arm just as you heard the footsteps of a teacher. You hid it behind your back as professor McGonagal turned the corner, smiling at you.

“It’s almost 10, better hurry up young lady.” She said as you passed.

“Of course professor.” You smiled back at her, sliding the book round your body as she walked round you.

Snape had ordered Filch to hang your picture behind the desk in the library, with the words ‘BOOK THEIF’ inscribed beneath it. You thought it was a little dramatic, but you admired the theatrical flare.

You finally arrived at the Slytherin common rooms, entering the admittedly cosy room to be greeted by a fire crackling as it illuminated the ornate fireplace, making it look slightly demonic; but, like, in a cool way.

You headed to your dorm, sliding the book underneath your bed as you got changed. Your bed was surprisingly comfortable, especially considering that time you dropped a candle on it and lit it up like a bonfire. It was still a bit charcoal-y, but nonetheless good.

You hopped into bed, leaning over and blowing out the candle on your neighbours bedside table as she read, earning an annoyed “Hey!” from her.

“Go to bed, Pansy.” You said, holding in laughter as you heard her huff, slamming her book down on the table to make a point.

You stared at the ceiling for what felt like a week, but in reality was about an hour, trying to fall asleep, but you couldn't. This always happened before a test: almost fall asleep when studying, but suddenly wide awake when you actually want to sleep. Perfect.

You contemplated waiting another hour, or possibly drugging yourself, but you arrived at the usual solution when you were in this situation: sneak out. Whenever you couldn't sleep you went for a little wander around the school grounds, and sometimes outside the grounds, and luckily you hadn't been caught yet.

Being as quiet as was humanly possible you rolled out of bed, slipping on your socks and slowly opening the door, before tiptoeing past the boys dorm. You weren't 100% sure where you were going, but anything was better than staring into the dark, letting your mind wander into an existential crisis as you just tried to get your beauty sleep.

The hallways were somehow even quieter now, the torches along the wall extinguished and the lingering warmth of daytime had vanished form the air, making you wish you'd brought a jumper. You went back past the courtyard, looking out the archways as you passed. You stopped; there was a bright red squirrel sat in the middle of the grass, inspecting a rock to see if it was edible. You crept over the the window as quietly as you could, watching it bite into the rock. Man squirrels are dumb. It looked up at you, pausing for a moment before scuttling away, taking the rock with it; maybe it was for home decor? You stuck your hand out into the open, assessing the temperature, which was average. You hopped the archway, landing with a thud on the soft grass.

You continued your journey, walking past the tree that shaded half the turf. The dark, blocky shapes of the quiddich pitch stood out in the dark, contrasting between the clouds that wafted across the sky, lit up by the full moon which made them iridescent as they decorated the sky.

Knowing you should probably go back to bed, you started walking over to the pitch, which you were sure would have a good view of the night sky.

You were about halfway there when you heard the soft thudding of footsteps catching up behind you, making you realise that you didn't have your wand on you. You snapped round, ready to swing, only to be greeted by the sight of a scruffy redhead, wavering barefoot through the grass.

“Ron?” You said, walking up to your friend as he smiled.

“Hey, Bethany!” He replied confidently.

“Bethany?” You questioned, furrowing your eyebrows as you observed him.

“Yeah! Bethany!” He repeated, throwing his arms up in the air, before looking down at his feet and frowning. “Where are my shoes?” He looked back up to you. “Bethany?”

You were confused for a second, before realising what was going on; no, Ron hadn't suddenly gone insane—his brothers, dumb and dumber, had probably spiked his drink with befuddlement draught again. That would explain why he was talking gibberish, and was out on the grounds at night.

“Ok, Ron, lets get you back to bed now.” You said, leading him back to the castle as he muttered unintelligible babble to himself, the look on his face painfully serious.

You managed to get him through the halls and up to the Gryffindor common room without any interruptions, thank god, although it was a task to get him up the moving stairs without him jumping off.

you stood in front of the door to the Gryffindor common room, about to try and get Ron to say the password, when you sensed someone standing near you. Your irrational brain went straight to ‘DEMENTOR’ of course, which freaked you out majorly, enough to not want to turn around. You froze, not willing to get your soul sucked out of your face, as you babysat a delirious Ron.

“You found him.” You snapped round—it wasn't a demented, it was Fred.

“Where was he?” And George.

“Outside.” You said, rolling your eyes as you handed Ron over to his brothers, which probably wasn't the smartest idea but oh well.

They both chuckled as they watched their brother smile at a wall.

“Befuddlement draught?” You said, crossing your arms.

“Yup.” They proudly sang in unison.

Fred escorted Ron into the common room, followed by George, who paused, taking a step back and leaning his lanky body against the wall, craning his neck to talk to you.

“Whay were you outside, anyway?”

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“Why not?” He frowned.

“I’ve got a test tomorrow and I only started studying like four hours ago.” You chuckled, reminiscing about your certain, impending doom.

“Which book did you steal this time?” He raised an eyebrow mockingly as he grinned.

“Hey, I don't steal.” You corrected him.

“Right, right, I forgot: you borrow.” He put air quotes around ‘borrow’, earning an eye roll and a huff.

You both laughed quietly, trying not to attract a nosy professor sniffing around after curfew.

Freds voice came from behind the door, calling George into the common room.

“I hath been summoned.” He said in a mockingly posh voice, tipping an invisible top hat.

“Then I shall bid you farewell.” You copied his accent, waving your hand fancily thought the air.

He bowed, looking up at you. “Goodnight, M’lady.”

“Goodnight, Good Sir.” You curtseyed, holding up an imaginary skirt as you realised you were still in your pyjamas.

He left into the common room, clicking the door closed behind him, leaving you stood on the dark stairway. You headed back down, deciding that Ron was a sign from the universe telling you to go to bed.

Once again, you made it back to your dorm unscathed, climbing back into bed unnoticed. You closed your eyes, the image of Ron completely out of it popping into your head and making your chuckle as you drifted off to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

“Ron, don’t be a knob.” Hermione said, elbowing him to get him to stop pretending to curse her. You chuckled at them.

You, Ron, Hermione and Harry were all walking down to the quiddich pitch, escorting Harry to practice. Ron had since recovered form the effects of the befuddlement draught, no thanks to his brothers. He was still a little dim-witted, but you chalked that up to Ron being Ron.

You endured his antics the whole way to the pitch, listening to him and Hermione bicker like an old married couple.

Once you got there, the three of you waved Harry off as he joined the rest of the Gryffindor team.

“Try not do die!” You called after him, smiling.

“I’ll do my best!” He replied.

You all made your way up into the empty-ish stand, sitting in the front row as you watched Oliver Wood give the team a pep talk. Although you were a Slytherin, you usually sat with Ron, Hermione and Harry, them being your best friends. You were sat next to Hermione in potions in your first year, and you became really good friends through a mixture of needing friends and needing answers for the class, which you stole from her, of course. She introduced you to Harry and Ron, who quickly accepted you as part of their little group, and now you sat with them during quiddich games.

You watched as the Gryffindor team flew up, dispersing into the air as they took their positions, ready to start playing. You all watched Harry as he played, cheering every few minutes as and when he scored a goal.

You were chatting about an upcoming test when you were interrupted by the familiar voices of Fred and George, probably selling something.

“Two for one on Canary Creams!”

“Live out your life-long dream of being a bird!”

Ron turned round, greeting his brothers as ‘dumb and dumber’ as they sat down on the row behind you. George landed forward, tapping you on the shoulder and grinning as he held his jacket open, revealing a wall of sweets strapped to the lining. You laughed at his craftiness, wondering what they did.

“Take your pick.” He said, gesturing to the sweets.

You scanned over them, stopping at a small packet of ‘sugar hexes’ which you grabbed, looking at the packaging.

“And how exactly will these sweets inconvenience my life?” You asked playfully, raising your eyebrows at George.

He laughed, bowing his head. “Fortunately for you, they won’t. Just plain ‘ol sweets.”

You were suspicious about this, taking one out of the packet and popping it into your mouth, bracing to be transformed into a pig or turn purple, yet you stayed a normal coloured human. They were actually pretty good. You looked back at George after confirming that they were, in-fact, just sweets, humming approvingly. He shot you back a look that said ‘I told you so’. He reached into the packet, his hand lightly brushing yours as he took a sweet, watching Harry fly around the pitch as he ate it.

You tuned back into Ron and Freds conversation, listening as Fred tried to convince Ron to eat a suspicious looking sweet.

“C’mon! It’s just a sweet; nothing bad will happen.”

“I doubt that highly.” Ron said, stroppily crossing his arms as he refused his brothers offer.

Fred laughed at him, shaking his head as he put one in his mouth, Ron still watching him. “Your loss.”

Ron took one, eating it in the hopes that it was safe, but judging by the way that Fred spat it out when Ron turned away, you guessed that it wasn’t.

You leaned back, tapping George on the shoulder. “What did Ron just eat?” You whispered.

George leaned forward, getting so close that you could smell the scent of cinnamon that always hung around him. “That would be the Fainting Fancies.” He smirked, watching his brother chew happily as you both waited for something to happen. “It takes a while to kick in.” He added, leaning back and pointing to Harry as he scored a goal, cheering.

“He’s gotten better.” George said at a normal volume.

“Yeah,” You agreed. “Still reckon I could beat him though.”

Fred laughed, pointing at you. “You’ve never played a game in your life!”

“Looks easy enough.” you said all too confidently.

“You reckon?” George chuckled, crossing his arms as you turned round to him.

“Yeah!”

“Well then,” He leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees while he negotiated. “I bet you one weeks homework that you wouldn't last five minutes in a quiddich game.”

“You really don't have _any_ faith in me, huh?” You tilted your head. “Deal.” You held out your hand, making eye contact with George as you raised an eyebrow.

“Deal.” He agreed, shaking your hand as he looked back into your eyes, mocking your facial expression.

The other three watched this exchange, immediately negotiating the details of the bet as soon as you shook hands. You turned back to watching Harry play, feeling the smugness radiate off of George as he scored his 6th goal.

George moved forward a row to sit next to you, taking another sweet from the bag in your hand as he leaned over to you. “There’s no way you’re winning this bet.”

You snatched the bag away in fake offence, scowling at him. “We’ll just have wait and see.”

And by that you meant that you had no idea how to play quiddich. So basically; you’re fucked.

You all watched as Harry played, emitting various ‘oo’s and ‘ah’s as the game went on. When practise was over, you all met just outside the quiddich pitch, greeting a rather disheveled looking Harry as he walked out.

“You look like death.” Hermione said, surveying his sweaty state.

“I feel like death.” Harry returned.

“Well, i may have something that might make you feel better.” George said, smirking at you as he talked to Harry. “Little miss confident over here thinks that she could beat you in a quiddich game.” He said, nodding his head in your direction.

Harry chuckled, crossing his arms. “Correct me of I'm wrong, but you've never even played quiddich before.”

“Nope,” you said, slightly regretting your cockiness. “but it doesn't seem that hard.”

Hermione turned to you. “You can hardly stay on a broom. Last time you got on one, you almost broke your arm trying to do a backflip.”

The group laughed at the image of you trying to do stunts on a broom. “Well I wont be doing backflips when I beat Harry.” You said, slightly overconfidently, but you stuck with it.

“Ok then,” Harry said, holding out his hand. “Tomorrow. Lunch. The quiddich pitch. No-one’s using it so it'll be the perfect time for me to beat you.” He smiled.

You grabbed his hand, slightly hesitantly smiling back. “In your dreams, Potter.” You chuckled, only then realising what you'd just agreed to.

“Then it’s settled!” Fred called out, clapping his hands together ceremoniously. “Tomorrow, at lunch, there shall be a battle between these two warriors to determine just who is , n fact, the best at quiddich!”

“You’re so dramatic.” Ron rolled his eyes at his brother, scoffing.

The group started walking off to the castle, and you trailed behind, listening to Hermione scold Ron for something or other as you stared at your feet, not sure why you agreed to the bet. You were lost in thought when George put a hand on your shoulder, pulling you slightly behind form the group. He bent down and lowered his voice slightly, just enough so the others couldn't hear him.

“So, be honest; Do you really think that you're gonna be able to beat Harry?”

“Yes!” You held your ground, crossing your arms.

George raised his eyebrows, shooting you a look that said ‘I know you're lying.”.

“Ok, no.” You admitted, lowering your voice to match his. “But there’s a chance that I _might_ win, so I'm just praying on that.”

George chuckled. “Well, if you really wanna win, I know where you can get something to help you.”

“Cocaine?”

“Liquid luck.” He lowered his voice to a whisper, leaning down to you. “Theres an extra vile that Fred’s been saving for a special occasion. Just say the word, and it’s yours.”

You considered it for a second, thinking about how good it would feel to say ‘I told you so’ to your whole friendship group, but then you realised that it would be a hollow victory, one that meant nothing because you didn't actually win, the potion did. “Thanks for the offer, but I don't cheat.”

“Fair enough.” George chuckled, standing back up and resting his elbow on your head, using you as an arm rest. “But how exactly do you play to win this when you can’t even stay on a broom?”

“Practise.”

“Practise?” He looked at you, raising an eyebrow. “Before tomorrow?”

“Yeah.” You said, realising that you were going to have to do a week of homework that wasn't even yours.

“Well, good luck.” He chuckled.

You nudged his arm off your head, rolling your eyes and jogging to catch up with the others.

You all reached the castle, Hermione, Harry and Ron bidding you farewell as they headed off to theGryffindoor common room to chill, leaving you with the twins. You walked along the hall with them, listening them talk about their joke shop, agreeing to double prices when Ron buys from their e.t.c, when the deep gong of the bells rang out.

“Shit.” You cursed, realising that you were meant to be in Defense Against the Dark Arts five minutes ago.

“What?” Fred and George said in unison.

“Gotta go, bye.” Was the best you could offer as you dashed down the hallway, speeding round the corners as you tried to come up with an excuse as to why you weren't in class.

Thankfully, you got there at a reasonable time, scurrying in and taking your usual seat, flicking through the paper in for of you as you tried to avoid drawing any more attention to yourself. Just as you'd imagined, you knew next to nothing that was on the test. The only questions you answered were in the section about the unforgivable curses, and you only knew those answers because you payed attention to the textbook, and the only reason you payed attention to the textbook was because the dude in the diagram illustration one of the curses was hot.

You pretty much bombed the test, filing out of the room at the end of the lesson with all the other students as they all chatted about how well they did on the test.

You were, to say the least, bummed. You walked down the hallway, heading to the Slytherin common room to stare into the fire in a pit of existential despair, when you heard two familiar voices calling your name. You turned round to see Fred and George walking up to you, their usual cheeky smiles painted on their faces.

“What’s up.” You greeted as they walked either side of you, making you feel like you were being protected by body guards.

“Heya.” They both sang in unison, resting their elbows on your shoulders.

“Where ya headed?” Fred said.

“Common room.”

George looked at you, noticing the sullen look on your face. “What’s got ya so down?”

You sighed. “I totally fucked the test, and I'm pretty sure I was the only one who did so badly.”

Fred and George looked at each other, glancing back to you.

“Im sure you didn't do that badly.” Fred said, a tinge of hope shining through his voice.

“I only answered 10 questions.”

“Well thats ten marks!” He persisted.

You looked up at him, raising and eyebrow. “And I guessed most of them.”

Fred did say anything, just shot you a look that said ‘oh’.

“And,” You continued, remembering about the bet you'd made. “tomorrow I'm going to continue my loosing streak by getting beat at quiddich.”

The twins went silent for a second contemplating something. Out of the corner of your eye you saw them look at each other, George mouthing something to Fred.

“Ah, I just remembered,” Fred said, taking his arms off your shoulder. “I left something in that place back there.”

“What _thing_?” You questioned.

“Y’know, the thing.” He said, breaking away from you and George as he walked back down the corridor, leaving you George and you, his assigned arm rest.

“You’re really bummed about that test, huh?” George said, looking down at you.

You looked up, meeting his eyes and nodding your head.

He paused, looking off in thought, before looking back at you. “Meet me outside your common room at 11.”

You looked up at him, puzzled. “Wait, why?”

“Just meet me at 11.” He repeated, a devilish smirk painted across his face, the same one that lingered around whenever he was pulling a prank.

You were slightly worried. “But that’s after curfew.”

He leaned down so you were eye-to-eye, his caramel brown eyes dancing with mischief as he gazed at you. “So?” His voice was laced with sickly-sweet joy, spilling though his teeth like molten honey down his porcelain skin.

He stood back up, walking ahead of you as you watched him disappear into the crowds and round the corner, wondering what mischief he was planning. You pondered this all the way through the rest of your day, the thought hanging around the back of your mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for taking ages to update, I forgot I was writing this x


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW//BLOOD --mention of blood, like not a lot, but enough for a tw

You were sat on your bed, staring through the darkness as you waited for everyone else in the room to fall asleep, listening to their snoring as you played with the hem of your jumper. You got some weird looks from the other girls in your room for changing into a jumper and jeans instead of pyjamas, but they thought you were weird enough and luckily didn't question you.

You decided that everyone was asleep, grabbing your wand off the nightstand and quietly fumbling over to the door, cautiously unlocking it and sliding out, closing it slowly after you so as to not wake anyone up. The common room was lit by the fire that was still crackling, heating up the castle as it fluttered. You walked past it, making your way out of the common room and standing just outside the entrance, slightly anxious about being caught by a teacher. It was about 10:58, thats what it said on the clock in your dorm, and you did as you were instructed; wait outside your common room at 11. You glanced around the dim halls, moonlight wafting in through a high window, painting the corridor a soft grey.

Suddenly, you felt a hand snake onto your shoulder, sending a wave of panic through your body as you jerked away from it, snapping round and brandishing your wand. In the faint light of the moon you saw a tall boy in front of you, smirking slightly.

“Don’t scare me like that!” You whisper-shouted to George, who suppressed a laugh as he watched you tuck your wand into your back pocket.

He held up his hands, raising his eyebrows. “Apologies.” He whispered back.

“What are we even doing?” You crossed your arms, slightly anticipating some sort of prank.

George turned round, glancing down the corridor before turning back to you. “C’mon.” He started walking away, glancing back at you and waving his hand.

You followed him, jogging to keep up as he confidently strode down the hallway. You followed him to the open archways that lead out into the field, walking out into the still night air. It was crisp, and tasted like autumn as you felt the cool breeze prick at your face, turning blank cheeks red.

“Where are we going?” You repeated, raising your voice to a normal volume now you were out of the castle.

“You ask too many questions.” George chuckled, looking down at you as he watched your unamused expression.

It was light outside, the sky was clear leaving the moon to bathe the wide expanse of grassland in a blue-grey mist, that bounced off every surface, sucking the colour from the world. you were walking towards the quiddich pitch, and you realised what might be happening. You kept quiet, not wanting to disturb the quiet that hung around; it was rare, and you savoured it.

After another couple minutes of comfortable silence, you and your lanky companion arrived at the quiddich pitch, making your way out to the middle of the grass.

“And _why_ exactly are we here?” You crossed your arms, looking up at George.

He turned to you, smiling proudly. “You said you were gonna practise playing, why not with an actual quiddich player?”

You smiled at him reluctantly, not wanting to show how happy this made you, but also not wanting so be a bitch.

“Alright then,” You threw your hands down by your sides. “Teach me how to play quiddich.”

George hopped to action, immediately jogging over to the side of the pitch, where there was a pile of equipment. He came back with it all in hand, dumping it onto the ground.

“Now,” He said, his voice painted with a tinge of excitement. “Safety first.” He said, holding up a set of protective gear that you'd seen him wear at games. “It’s important that you don’t die before tomorrow, or you automatically lose, and that would just be embarrassing.”

He held up a leather chest protector, smiling at you.

“If you insist.” You smiled back.

He unclipped it, handing it to you to slide on. It was bulky, and smelled slightly of sweat, but at least it would reduce your chances of dying. As you put it on, George gestures for you to turn around. You did and he clipped it up on the back, pulling it tight do it didn't fall off. He ran his hands down the sides, checking if it fit, and the feeling of his fingers brush your body sent a small tingle down your spine, but you Chalked that up to you being cold and him being warm. Next, he held up a helmet, dusting it off before unbuckling it. He looked at you, hesitating momentarily before brushing your hair back, and putting it on your head. He bent down, carefully fastening it under your chin and you watched the concentration in his eyes as he did, watching the caramel irises throw the moonlight back out onto you. He clicked it shut, looking up at you before standing back up, surveying his work.

He hesitated for a second, before raising his fist and hitting you on the head.

“Hey!” You said, fully ready to tackle him.

“Just testing that it works.” He chuckled, before putting his own helmet on and picking up two brooms.

He handed one to you, watching as you stared at it, half in awe and half in fear.

“You have flown before, right?” He said, slightly worried.

“Yeah, a couple times, in Madame Hooch’s class.”

“And how’d that go?”

“Well,” You said, realising exactly how shit you were at flying. “It went.”

George sighted, only now realising what he'd gotten himself into.

“So,” He started. “You know how to hover?”

You stepped over the broom, sitting down and leaning forward slightly, putting all of your effort into not falling off as you hovered above the ground. “Yup.”

George joined you, hovering a couple of feet above ground as he spoke.

“And you can fly?”

“I can try.”

He looked around, spotting the three goal rings as the right hand side of the pitch. “Follow me then.” He flew over to them, stopping in the middle of the tallest one.

You gulped, slightly intimidated by the height, but you weren't gonna show it. You leaned forward, flying smoothly over to him and stopping in front of him, trying your best not too fall, because you'd probably die.

“Great.” George said. “So, do you actually know how to play quiddich?”

“Yeah!” You said, slightly offended. “I think you're forgetting that I've been there the majority of times that you've played, and you literally watched me watch Harry play yesterday.”

“Ok, well at least thats a start.” He nodded his head, contemplating what to say next. “So, you and Harry are going head-to-head in a match to see how wins, and thats being determined by who catches the snitch.” He took a small golden ball out of his trouser pocket, holding it up in front of his face. “This little bugger here’s fast, and tricky to catch, so you better be smart about it.”

You nodded, looking at the snitch as the moonlight coated it, carving patterns and swirls against the shadows on its golden surface.

George continued. “That’s all you have to do: Catch this thing, and then you win.”

“Simple enough.” You said, wondering why you were doing something so easy.

George just laughed, looking at you with a pitiful look on his face. “It’s cute that you think that.”

Before you had time to react he opened his palm, and the snitch unfurled two wings, that buzzed like a particularly extravagant bee a few centimetres above his hand. It shot off, speeding away from you so fast that you could barely track where it was.

“Oh…” Was all you could say as you watched it zip around the pitch like a toddler on cocaine, making you severely regret making this bet.

“And,” George added. “Don’t forget that you're going up against the youngest ever seeker.”

You sighed, realising you were destined to loose. “So basically, I'm fucked.”

“I never said that,” He flew up next to you. “Im just saying that when you do win, the victory will be all the more sweet.” He looked down at you, hope splayed across his face as he grinned.

You couldn't say you had much faith in yourself at that particular moment, but you trusted George, and if he said that you could win, then you believed that you could win.

You spent the next hour or so chasing after the snitch, gradually getting more and more confident on the broom, and being able to flay after and turn quicker. It wasn't much, but it was far better than what you could do yesterday.

The cool air was nipping at your nose as you leant forward, your eyes fixed on the small golden ball in front of you. You zipped left, then right, then left again as you followed it’s trail, never lagging behind. George was next to you, also trying to catch it as you raced. It dropped down, and you dropped with it, falling down through the air until you were about a foot off the ground. The snitch was hovering a few inches above the ground as it shot across the pitch, the sound of grass hitting agent its belly faintly snapping through the air. You were gaining on it, rapidly, and it was only a little out of reach. George was also close, and due to him being one lanky motherfucker his arms could reach far further than yours. Luckily you were a little ahead of him, and directly in front of the snitch. You reached out your hand, leaning forward slightly as you grabbed at the air in front of you. You felt the smooth metal bench your finger tips as you stretched your arm out, victor almost in your grasp.

You were almost close enough to grab it when you leaned forward just too much, the front of your broom, skidding across the ground and stopping dead, throwing you off like a bucking horse. You were flung though the air, hearing the brook snap clean in half from the impact as you braced yourself. You were about to hit the ground, when you felt something collide with you, wrapping around your waist and curling around your body, acting as a shock absorber as you hit the ground, rolling violently across the grass as you closed your eyes shut.

The cold grass cushioned your fall, but not enough to prevent you getting hurt as you came to a stop with a ringing pain in your cheek. You froze for a second, eyes shut, body tense as you processed what just happened. You could feel something wrapped around you, pulling you in tight. You opened your eyes, realising that your head was tucked into Georges chest as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. You heard his breathing, fast and short; scared. You tried to look up, realising that his head was pressed against yours, cradling you in the crook of his neck.

You took a second to catch your breath, hearing George catch his too, before speaking.

“George?” You muttered, almost inaudibly.

He didn't respond, only shifted, loosening his grip on you as he lifted his head up, unwrapping his arms form around you and laying out on the grass in relief. You were still laying on his arm, both of you catching your breath as you realised that you were, in-fact, alive. You looked over at him as he stared up, a slightly dazed expression painted on his face. He looked back, meeting your eye.

You both burst out laughing. You couldn't contain yourself, you were so filled with adrenaline that your hands were shaking, and it was hilarious. You laid laughing in the middle of the pitch for a while, until you'd both calmed down a bit and could actually think.

You looked back over to George, seeing a cut running down the right side of his lower lip, painting his lips crimson with blood that dripped down his chin.

“George, your lip.” You said, immediately sitting up to inspect it.

George sat up with you, looking at you as you grabbed his chin, turning his face towards you. The cut wasn't that deep, but it was quite bad.

“What about it?” He asked playfully, his white teeth painted with blood as he spoke.

“It’s split.” You muttered back, still focusing on his injury.

“I’ll survive.” He smiled, suddenly frowning.

“What?” You asked, seeing him look at you concerned.

George reached out a hand, gently wiping your cheek with his thumb. “You’re hurt.” He said, the most serious you'd ever seen him.

“I’ll survive.” You copied him, chuckling.

He didn’t react, too focused on the minuscule cut on your cheek. You looked at him, the concentration etched onto his face as he studied you, realising that the blood from his lip was dripping onto his trousers. You reached out, wiping it with your hand, holding it under his chin to catch any more blood.

“C’mon,” You said, “Let’s go back and get you patched up.”

You both left your armour stuff where you'd found it, propping your broomsticks on the wall of the pitch. The air seemed much less cold than before, mainly due to the possible death scare that you'd just had, and you were too hot for your jumper. You looked over at George, who was holding his hands under his chin to catch the blood as he walked, and took off your jumper, stopping him. You took the sleeve, gently wiping his chin before holding the fabric up to his face, grabbing his hand and holding it over. Your hand lingered over his for a moment, before retreating to your side.

“Does it hurt?” You asked, feeling slightly bad.

“Nah, it’s nothing.” George said, the usual light and welcoming tone laced though his voice that made you feel welcome. “Does your cheek hurt?” He asked quickly. “Because you should probably get it checked out, or at least clean it, or-“

“Alright.” You interrupted him as he seemingly spiralled into anxiety over the tiny cut on your cheek. You wiped it; it was a scratch, and it wasn't even bleeding anymore. “I’m fine, you're not, so let’s just focus on you.”

“Well, I-“

You took your wand out of your pocket, jokingly threatening him with it. “If you say one more word then I’ll turn you into a frog.”

Fittingly George shut up, miming a lock and key at his mouth. You walked in comfortable silence for a while, the air around you buzzing for one reason or another. You glanced up at George, catching him with a half-stifled smile as he watched his feet tread over the ground. You wondered what he was thinking about.


	4. Chapter 4

You were stood in the school nurses office, rifling through a chest of drawers looking for supplies. You and George had decided that it was the best option not to get the nurse, or detention was inevitable, so you opted to make use of the facilities and then try and make it look like a couple of students hadn't just broken in. George was sat on one of the beds, still holding your jumper up to his face.

You found a basic first aid kit, stored at the back of a tray packed with slings and bandages, and you took it out, walking over and placing it down on the bedside table next to George. You held up your wand to the candle that sat on the tabletop, lighting it and half of the room. The candle was only small, but had an impressive range, lighting up about half of the considerably large room as it flickered.

You grabbed a small cloth out of the kit, and dampened it with antiseptic before tuning to George. He looked down at the cloth in your hand, covering his lips as he released what it was.

“Nope, nuh-uh, no way.” He leaned back slightly.

“Oh, c’mon,” You crossed your arms at him. “It only stings a little.”

“Correction,” He responded. “A lot.”

You huffed, snatching the jumper out of his hands and dumping it on the floor. “Dude, c’mon.”

He shook his head, backing up on the bed as he did his best to avoid you.

You looked at the boy in front of you, wondering how you could get him to stop being such a pussy. “I knew you wouldn't do it.” You said, banking on his completive nature to want to prove you wrong.

“And what do you mean by that?” He sat up on the bed.

“You’re just too much of a pussy.”

Suddenly, George grabbed your hand, pulling you over to him and raising his eyebrows, shooting you an ‘oh, really?’ look. He moved his hand, letting you get to the cut on his lip. It was only now that you realised how tall he was, even when hunched down on a bed George was eye level to you. You saw him out of the corner of your eye, watching you intently as you did your job.

You wiped away the blood off his chin and neck, folding the cloth over before going to clean his lip. You put the cloth to the cut, wiping it as gently as you could so as not to hurt George. You heard him wince through his teeth, snapping his eyes shut in pain.

“Sorry.” you said apologetically, still cleaning his lip.

He shot out his hand, grabbing your waist and squeezing it slightly to cope with the pain. You ignored him, doing your best to clean him up and stop hurting him. You put your free hand under his chin, tilting it upward slightly so you could get to the bottom of the injury.

“All done.” You said as you finished, beginning to wipe up the rest of the blood that had smeared itself over his face.

You glanced up at him, meeting his eye as you did. Not breaking eye contact, you unfolded the cloth, wrapping it around your thumb and wiping over his lips, being careful to avoid the cut.

Once you'd finished, you dropped your hand, realising that Georges was still holding onto your waist. You felt his fingers wrap around your figure, cradling your body as you looked at him.

“Thanks.” He said, his usual loud, upbeat tone switched out for a quiet and tranquil one.

“No problem.” You replied, your own voice only a mutter of its usual volume.

You both lingered for a second staring back into each others eyes as the candle softly lit his face, throwing shadows against his skin and carving out his features from the dark. After a considerable time of lingering, you both snapped out of it, George dropping his hand from your body and you turning round and chuckling the used cloth in the bin, returning the bottle of antiseptic to the first aid kit.

You grabbed a small strip of the adhesive bandages that the nurses used for cuts, since the majority of the student body refused to have stitches, and tore a piece off, turning back to George and lifting up his chin.

“Stay still.” You said, taking off the backing of the bandage and positioning it over his lip.

George hummed back, trying not to move as best he could as you played it over the injury, smoothing it down with your finger. You stood back a little, checking that it was in an ok position before moving your gaze from Georges lips to his eyes, just as he did the same to you.

“You feel ok?” You said, releasing that he probably didn't feel great.

“Yeah.” He said, his voice slightly hoarse.

you turned around to check the time. “12:47”. George followed your eyes, releasing how late it was.

“Damn, I’m surprised we haven been reprimanded by an angry Professor.” He chuckled.

“Who knows,” You shot back. “They could be waiting outside the door to ambush us.”

You sighed, sitting down next to George, and it was as soon as your body hit the soft sheets that you realised just how tired you were. You leaned back on your palms, feeling your body ache from the hour of flying around o a broom, and the impact of then falling off that broom.

George looked at you, frowning.

“What?” You asked him.

“Your cheek.”

You were slightly confused. “Yes, I do have a cheek?”

“No, he laughed, bowing his head as he smirked, before glancing back up at you with an unfamiliar look on his face. “There’s a cut; on your cheek.”

“Oh,” you laughed. “I’m sure I’ll survive.”

George, tiled his head, smirking at your nonchalant nature before leaning over and grabbing another cloth out of the first aid kit, wetting it and turning back to you. He raised an eyebrow. “Your turn.”

“Kindly fuck off.” You snapped sarcastically, leaning away from him on the bed.

“Hey now, don't be a pussy.” He mocked your tone, holding up the cloth.

You didn't wanna be hurt, but you also didn't wanna prove that you were more of a pussy than him, so you sat up normally, secretly bracing yourself. “Fine then.”

George smiled.

“Just, be kind.”

He set a finger under your chin, gently turning you to face him before leaning forward. He put the cloth to your cut, wiping over it. At first all you felt was the cool liquid on your face, but then small, sharp pangs of stinging pain jabbed your cheek, making your eyes water. You clenched your teeth, shutting your eyes and trying to focus on the surroundings rather than the pain.

Georges face was inches away from yours, and you could feel the heat radiate off of him, a welcomed contrast against the cool air. The scent of cinnamon lingered around him, as it always did, reminding you of a bakery near halloween, all the gingerbread cookies in the shapes of cats and pumpkins decorating the shop windows.

Suddenly, a sharp pain hit you in the face, much worse than the usual. You threw out your hand, grabbing something and squeezing it to alleviate the pain.

You waited for George to finish, taking the cloth away and gently declaring “Done.” As he threw it away.

You opened your eyes, blinking a couple times as the fumes from the antiseptic burned slightly. You quickly realised that the thing you'd grabbed was Georges hand, and that you were practically holding on to it for dear life. You let go, realising how tight you were holding it.

“Sorry.” You chuckled nervously.

“It’s cool.” George returned, grabbing a plaster out of the box. He peeled off the back, gesturing for you to look at him.

He laid the plaster over the cut, smoothing it down with his thumb.

“Thanks.”

“No problem.” George said, moving his gaze form your cheek to your eyes, his hand still resting on the side of your face.

You both held eye contact for a second, before tuning back as George dropped his hand and you stood up.

“We should probably go back.” You said, picking the first aid kit up and returning it to its drawer.

George agreed, using his wand as a light before blowing out the candle, leaving the room in a wavering darkness. You and him made your way back down the hallway, doing your best to keep the volume of your footsteps at a minimum. It was completely silent, but it was comfortable, a warmhushed atmosphere hanging around in the air as you watched the shadows scroll past, the dents and chips in the weathered walls illuminated by the light from Georges wand.

You arrived at the entrance to the Slytherin common room, turning back to George.

“You feeling ok?” You checked, just incase he keeled over and died.

“Yeah.” He breathed. “Now, get to bed, young lady, or I’ll have to punish you.” George chucked playfully. You knew that he meant detention, but you couldn't stop your mind from wandering.

“If you say so, Sir.” You returned, raising an eyebrow.

You botch chuckled, as George said goodbye for real, ruffling one of his hands through your hair. You watched him sneak back down the hallway, following his figure as it disappeared before slipping into the common room, past the ever-blazing fire and doing your best to silently get into bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All ideas for scenes you'd want to see are welcome!!! x

**Author's Note:**

> First chapter-any notes??


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